


Tell me I'm wrong

by TeddyTR



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, eventually fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-11
Updated: 2011-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:00:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddyTR/pseuds/TeddyTR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fixit!fic with BAMF/hurt Charles. Charles decides it's simply not fair. Something inside him breaks. No. No way in bloody hell. He won't let any of this happen...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys, it's been a while! Although it's the first time I'm actually posting to this fandom, I've been in it a lot lately. I couldn't hold myself back any longer. Please, enjoy!

The pounding is intolerable. Charles is surprised that he can walk and talk with this kind of pain in his head. He has no time to faint. He’s busy worrying about Erik. Erik. Erik seems to be on the edge of losing himself. Even with that bloody helmet on, Charles can tell exactly what’s inside the other man’s mind. Just as he predicted, killing Shaw didn’t lift his rage. It left him without purpose, unleashing his fury upon the world just because it had to be unleashed. Charles knows Erik is no saint, but also knows that he’s not thinking straight right now. He can’t be. They have to calm down. And get out. Charles is trying to put a plan together, but his head hurts _so much_. As if the coin was still in there…

 

“…Charles, tell me I’m wrong.”

 

What? Oh, oh yeah, Erik was jabbering about humans and weapons. He takes only a peek and his mind burns up. He flinches. Yes, the soldiers got the order to shoot them. It is a hurting betrayal, but compared to what is about to happen with him and Erik…

 

Charles can feel the tension growing and growing. Raven’s thoughts are shouting at him. The boys are furious; they want to rip Angel’s wings. The soldiers’ fear is radiating through the ocean. Erik is looking at him, almost mad, angry, accusing, _alien_ …

 

Charles decides it’s simply not fair. He never had a real family, never had real friends, never had a _partner_. Never even hoped it was possible for him. And there they were. And there _he_ was. Erik. Now ready to throw everything away. Oh, Chares can see it so clearly. And it hurts, _hurts_ so much, maybe more than his head…

 

Seconds slow down and something inside Charles breaks. No. No way in bloody hell. He won’t let any of this happen. He _refuses_ it.

 

“No,” he says out loud and his voice thunders in every mind in the radius of at least three kilometers.

 

***

 

Erik watches with wide eyes as the children and Shaw’s team cry out and fall on their knees, holding their head. He feels the metal on the ships stop. Like everything… no, everyone is halted. _Impossible,_ he thinks as he turns his head towards Charles. It’s like a bucket of cold water into his face. He has never seen an expression so wild on the telepath’s face, it’s almost _berserk._ His body is a big contrast, as it’s shaking like a leaf in the wind and his skin is so white, even the always vivid lips are hard to spot.

 

“Charles…” he tries, but can’t find his previously so firm tone. Somehow it feels like he’s coming back to his senses. His mind begins to find out what’s happening as the midst of rage starting to fade.

 

“I said, no.” Charles rasps. “ _Enough_ of this.” Erik can tell that even the soldiers on the ships hear him, because the others on the beach whimper after every word. “We came here, to _save_ lives.” Charles continues with real voice creepily low. “I am not having _anyone_ harming another. No more. So I’d prefer _all of you_ ” His eyes flickers to Erik. “to stop.”

 

Erik shivers. So this is how an upset Charles looks like. He has to admit, it is bloody scary. Even with the helmet on, Erik isn’t sure about his safety. For the first time in his life, he doesn’t know what he should do. He no longer has a perspective. This thought crushes down his strength. What on earth he should do? Where should he go? What is he, after all this mess? He realizes that there is only one person on this pity planet he would want to turn to with these questions. And that person is standing in front of him, more irate than ever, because of him.

 

“Charles, I…” Erik starts with hesitation. His words stuck in his throat as he sees a crimson line on Charles’s face. His nose is bleeding and he’s… he’s crying blood. “Charles!” By instinct, he moves, but the telepath raises a shaky hand.

 

“Not now, Erik. No time for your existential crisis. You,” he turns towards the sea. “go to sleep and when you wake up, you don’t remember us. And you don’t kill again. Never. And you” This one goes to Azazel. ”take us and your friends to Westchester, where everyone stay put for a while.”

 

Erik has a second to muse about the comment before Charles’s hand falls to his side and his eyes slide close. He’s barely able to catch the other man before he hits the sand.

 

“Charles!” He gets no reaction from the limp body in his arms. Blood is flowing slowly on Charles’s cheeks, from his eyes and nose. Erik notices horrified that his ears are wet with red too.

 

Meanwhile, Azazel stands, like a puppet. The others formulate a circle. Raven touches Erik’s shoulder. With a poof they are back to the mansion. Everyone blinks several times, heads heavy with a headache and the struggle for comprehending the last ten minutes’ happenings.

 

Erik hears himself shouting for Hank to help Charles, who stays still as they move him into bed. For Erik, it’s all a blur of panic. He keeps calling, but Charles does not reply…

 

***

 

Coming around is a lot of pain for Charles. His head has never been so bad before. It’s raw, aching, pumping, the whispers of other minds are like tiny claws ripping into an already torn wound. With a groan he tries to pull up his walls, but they’re thin and the procedure hurts. He gasps.

 

Suddenly there’s something warm close to him. He feels his hand as it is touched by another one. Someone calls him. Good, that’s good, he can hold onto that.

 

“Charles?”

 

Of course. Erik. Charles forces his eyes open. He’s grateful that the room is darkened. Erik sits on the bed, face torn, thumb drawing circles on the top of his left hand.

 

“Erik. You’re here.”

 

“Of course I am, Charles.” Erik sounds hurt. “Can you tell me what the hell happened?”

 

“I…oh, _oh_.” The memories came back. Charles eyes widen. Never ever before, he has done something like that. “Oh, my God, I’m so, s _o_ sorry!” Horror hit in. “Are they… Is everyone alright?”

 

“They are, everyone is fine, but that’s not what I’m talking about, Charles.” But Charles is not listening at all.

 

“They might hate me now. Yes, that’s right. What I did is totally unforgivable. My God, did I really tell soldiers not to kill again?”

 

“Charles!” Erik forces their eyes to meet. “No one hates you. We are more like ashamed of ourselves.” Charles makes a face. That’s not right. It’s him who should be ashamed of himself. To use his powers against-

 

“Charles! Would you please listen to _me_ for a second?”

 

“Erik, I’m so sorry about what happened.”

 

“Wha- y _ou’re_ sorry?”

 

“Only the helmet stopped me from invading your mind. Although I promised I never would. I’m truly very sorry. And I recall I also said some harsh things. I’m sorry about that too.”

 

“Stop. Apologizing. Already.”

 

“But-“

 

“I’m not interested, Charles. What I want to know is what happened to _you_.”

 

“Me?”

 

“Yes. When you… the…” As Erik suddenly finds a lump in his throat, he simply sends the picture where there’s blood all over Charles face. The telepath winces.

 

“Oh, that.”

 

“Raven said you used to have nosebleeds when you were a teenager, if something went wrong with your powers. But she said she had never seen anything like this.”

 

“Yes, well, I guess it was a bit too much. Shaw, the coin, all those minds I controlled and then altering their memory…”

 

Blood runs out of Erik’s face. “What do you mean ‘the coin’?”

 

“I…” Charles pauses, considering for a second if he should fill Erik in. In the end, he decides there is no meaning in hiding. Erik might leave anyway, so what’s the point?

 

“I had to keep him still for you, so I was in his head for _all_ the time. Even while you… while he died.”

 

Erik’s shoulders slump. “You… Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice rises.

 

“I _tried_ , Erik, remember?”

 

“No, you blabbered about your idealism, that’s not the same!”

 

“Oh, I see, I should have known that if _executing_ a man doesn’t stop you, then causing me pain will do!”

 

“Are you _serious_ , Charles? I would have never done it if-“

 

“Don’t. Don’t lie to me Erik and don’t lie to yourself either. It happened. I didn’t die. Story is over.”

 

“I can’t believe my ears! Charles, you lied here, knocked out for _three_ days!”

 

“And you stayed?”

 

“ _Of course._ You think I could leave?”

 

“To tell the truth, yes, I thought you would.” Erik stops the pacing he began several sentences ago and stares at Charles. The telepath does not look accusing or angry, only sad. So sad it hurts.

 

“You think I’m that cruel?” Erik asks, almost broken.

 

“No. I don’t think you’re cruel, Erik. I think you… you don’t see.”

 

“See what?”

 

“People. They either stand in your way or help you and that’s all. The same with me. I was helping you and that was fine until I tried to balk you. You were ready to march through me because of that.”

 

Erik wants to argue, but it sounds quite accurate. Except the part concerning Charles. It might have started out like that, but it became different. Erik _cared._ Or at least he thought he did. Now, thinking about his state of mind on the beach… He recognizes horrified how easy it was to fall into the familiar patterns. Erik slumps back into the armchair beside the bed, in which he was sitting in the last three days.

 

“I…I’ve never meant to…” he tries to explain.

 

“I know.” Of course Charles does. He always knows. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”

 

“What?”

 

“I can understand your actions, because I’ve seen your reasons with my eyes. But I never tried to explain myself to you, did I. It seems you can’t understand my behavior towards people. You think I’m too soft. And it bothers you so much I’m surprised you’re still here. Have you ever wondered about my powers?”

 

Erik frowns. Telepathy means Charles to him. It’s interesting, useful, impressive and strong. Very strong.

 

Charles chuckles as he catches some of that unintentionally. “Well, thank you. But I was thinking more of your opinion about how it might feel to be a telepath.”

 

“What are you trying to say, Charles?”

 

“I _feel_ them, Erik. People. I’m _seeing_ them, their real selves. If they feel strongly enough, those emotions are like my own ones. Even with a slight brush I see complicated, unique structures and as ridiculous as it sounds, but each one has light in it. I’m not saying all of them are good, or that for example Shaw did not deserve punishment. But death… I can’t explain how it feels… What I can tell is that killing someone leaves a mark. It backlashes on the mind that caused death. And your mind suffered so many backlashes tearing into its beautiful structure… No one should have those kinds of scars. It just doesn’t worth it.”

 

Erik sits silently. He has never thought about the other man’s gift in that way. Connection with everyone he meets… The answer to his blind idealism was so plausible. And kind of understandable in that perspective. Maybe he really can’t _see_. But for Charles he is trying.

 

About killing, it never satisfied him. He always thought Shaw’s death would. But truth to be told, it wasn’t satisfying at all. It left him vacant instead…

 

Charles watches Erik and tries his best to hide the anxiousness. He wishes he could explain things better. He could share, but his head is in no condition for connecting. It still wants to blow up. But again, Charles has no time. They _have to_ deal with this now. If it’s not too late already…

 

“I…” Erik starts awkwardly. “I have to admit I have never given it much thought. Actually, never given _people_ much thought.”

 

“You think we can talk about it?” Charles asks cautiously. “I mean both of us need some revising of ideas, don’t you agree?”

 

“I do. Yes, that would be good.”

 

A huge stone lifts from Charles’s heart. He smiles brightly at Erik, who is a bit hesitant, but returns the gesture. It would be all sunny and peachy, if Charles’s head wasn’t cracking open. He can’t hold himself back anymore. He closes his eyes and lifts his palms to massage his temples. Erik sits up immediately, remembering the situation.

 

“It can wait though. You need rest. But before that, you haven’t answered my question about what happened _exactly._ ”

 

“Shutdown.” That was the best expression Charles found to describe it. “Usually it happens before the bleeding begins, but I can push it if I’m… _eager_ enough.”

 

“Meaning if you’re in rage mode.”

 

“That’s- it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

 

“Pretty badass, according to my experience.”

 

“ _Badass?_ ”

 

Erik grinned at the bewildered expression of his friend. “What? Never heard this word, Charles? You’re vocabulary needs improving.”

 

“I _know_ its meaning, I’ve just… no one ever called me that.”

 

“Then no one knew you like I do.”

 

“That’s… quite true, actually.”

 

Erik is caught off guard by that plain sincerity, as always. Even in his embarrassment, he manages to notice the growing lines of pain on Charles’s face. He sits on the bed again and arranges the sheets so they cover the telepath’s frame perfectly.

 

“Okay, now time for a nap.”

 

“But-“

 

“We have a lot of time to talk, Charles. If it’s okay with you, I’ll wait here for you to get rid of that migraine.”

 

“’Course it’s okay.” Charles is drifting already, realizing how tired he is. _More than okay,_ he thinks, maybe a bit too loud, because he feels a small smile responding, before he sinks totally into warm darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of ended up writing a second chapter (it was not the plan).  
> I would like to dedicate this one to my dear tkinga, because sometimes all we need is a fluffy nightmare fic to get us through the day.   
> Oh, and for those who voiced their longing for more badass Charles - challenge accepted (so keep track on me please)!

Things go slow. _Very_ slow. Charles and Erik find that they have missed so many vital conversations. They had so little time then. But now they seem to have a lot, so they talk. And it seems to work. But Charles is still insecure. Every morning he muses when he sees Erik sitting at the dining table, reading a paper or drinking coffee, so domestic it makes him chuckle. He’s glad the other man can’t read minds. He would say Charles’s an idiot and maybe he is, but still…

 

It was so close. Charles can see it when he’s in bed, staring at the ceiling. They’re standing on the beach and Erik grows more distant with every second. Sometimes Charles wanders about himself. He thinks, maybe it wasn’t fury after all. Maybe it was fear. Or, most likely, both.

 

Nightmares are a nuisance. They’re so strong that Charles can only block pictures from the others, but not feelings. It makes him feel like a nuisance himself. Of course, the children assure him it’s totally fine and usually Charles is the one has to suffer from everyone’s dreams in the house, so that’s the least.

 

They are unbelievably cautious with their behavior since the beach and Charles feels guilty about that. It seems to have its benefits though. Azazel, Riptide and Angel chose to stay which obviously created a bit of uneasiness. But thanks to the lesson both sides learnt hard (“Be friendly, or Charles will get cross, and you don’t want that.”), they manage nicely.

 

If only Charles could be like that too. And on the surface, he is, talking through nights with Erik and all. But there’s the issue of the helmet… That damned, bloody thing. Charles gets irate by merely thinking about it. Erik keeps it somewhere in his room, not sure what to do with it. It drives Charles mad. That moment, in Cuba, when Erik said “I don’t trust you, Charles.” and put it on… He never _ever_ _again_ wants to feel that ugly mess he felt back then. Never…

 

***

 

There’s a lot going on. Mostly inside of Erik’s head. He was in need of some new perspectives anyway and now he’s getting them, and miraculously they seem to work quite well with him. Thinking about one thing from several viewpoints is novel, as well as empathy, but somehow when Charles is involved, all of it is simpler. Understanding Charles is. Feel with him is. With others, Erik still has a hard time. He has to admit he’s slowly growing to like living in the mansion though. He has never lived in a place so vivid before. It feels nice…

 

He can tell there’s something bothering Charles. Although Raven reassures him that the telepath used to have nightmares as strong as these before, it still stinks. The most mind-boiling part of it is that no one knows what he’s dreaming about. Somehow he manages to block images. Only emotions bleed through his walls. And they are not pleasant. Of course, Erik asked Charles about the dreams. Of course, Charles always found a way to get away before he could answer. He’s the biggest idiot of all, not following his own advice…

 

***

 

It’s the weirdest thing ever, but Erik can actually feel when his own shapeless dreams are being brushed away abruptly by a picture alien to his mind. At first, he can’t even tell where he is. It’s too bright and his eyes hurt, his head hurts, his everything _hurts_ _so much_. Emotions come crushing down on him. Fear, sadness, betrayal, and hurt, _hurts so much_. Erik chokes and suddenly his surroundings jump into slow motion, so he can finally see. He’s standing in front of himself, but somehow it’s not entirely him. It’s someone very similar. There’s a hollow red cape on his back… Erik hears cracking noise and realizes it’s coming from him. From _inside_ of him. A voice, that’s not his, screams creepily. Then, rage comes. First thing of the vision that’s familiar to Erik. But there’s something wrong with it, it hurts, _hurts so much_ …

 

Erik wakes with a gasp and realizes he fell from the bed. It takes seconds to click together the information. A cold feeling grabs his stomach roughly. _Charles._ He jumps to his feet and rushes out of his room. He waits to meet the others on the corridors, but it seems he’s the only one who got a real share. He curses at the stairs and decides that his room is ridiculously far from Charles’s and that this sorry mistake needs to be fixed first thing in the morning.

 

_Erik?_

 

He only stops for a second, surprised at the voice inside his mind.

 

_Erik, I’m sorry that I wakened you, but it’s fine._

 

Erik is already back to taking two steps at a time.

 

_Y-you don’t have to! I’m telling you it’s fine!_

The door opens without him touching it. Charles sits in his bed, sheets and pillows look like Riptide’s handwork.

 

“A tornado passed by, Charles?”

 

The other man refuses to make eye contact.

 

_I appropriate your concern, Erik, but I don’t quite like you bursting into my bedroom without permission._

 

“And it’s such a crime that you won’t talk to me?”  Erik won’t let this go. Not this time. Charles needs to learn his lessons too. With two long steps he’s beside the bed. This close he can make out the slight panting.

 

_I just don’t trust my voice transitionally._

 

“Charles.” Oh, Erik is not good with ‘soft’, but he tries his best. He sits on the bed. “Are you serious when you say we should be able to talk about our problems? Or you’re just fooling around with me?”

 

Charles’s eyes flicker at him and Erik can see their glistering.

 

_Of course not._

 

“Then would you mind explaining this to me?”

 

_I’m sorry._

 

“Not really an answer, Charles.”

 

Not many times did Erik get the opportunity to see Charles helpless. He sat there, blinking, not sure what to do or say. _What a schizophrenic,_ Erik muses as he remembers berserk Charles on the beach. A watery chuckle tells him he projected the thought successfully.

 

“Fine then.” Charles half-whispers. “Would you let me show you something?”

 

“I believe that’s why I’m here.”

 

There’s a gentle smile before images float into Erik’s mind. He closes his eyes and concentrates…

 

He sees someone, but not with eyes. It’s a chaos of thoughts, but it’s so unique. So beautiful. The memory splashes like water and Erik recognizes himself. There are flashing pictures. Other-Erik smiles and a voice states it’s for the first time. Other-Erik sits behind a chess table and grins. The voice says it’s for a thousandth time and laughs. Other-Erik turns the satellite. Other-Erik hides all the forks. Other-Erik says ‘Charles’ so often like no one before. And so on, countless pictures, all with such a glowing and warmth that makes Erik wander about himself. How can anyone see him like this? He’s not that kind of a person, surely. He’s supposed to be cold, ruthless, a weapon, a _monster_ …

 

A change in the images rips him from his thoughts. It’s the beach again. They have just landed. He watches Other-Erik walk towards the submarine and somehow he already knows that nothing good will come out of this. There’s fear. The pain is incidental, only a bother. Other-Erik glares at him and there’s nothing else, only his eyes, saying a harsh goodbye. _I’m going to lose this,_ the voice cracks, _all of this. I wasn’t supposed to have it in the first place and now I just can’t let go. Can’t. Won’t. Not possible. Not like this._ The rest of the memories are blurred by red midst and a thundering anger, shouting ‘no’ over and over again…

 

It’s the second time Erik opens his eyes with a gasp. Charles sniffs, his cheeks are wet.

 

“Do you see now?” He asks quietly.

 

“I…” Erik frowns at his rasping voice and then realizes he has tears on his face too.

 

_Sorry, emotion transfer…_

“I’m not sure.” Erik blurts out and blushes almost instantly. “But how can you… I’m not like that, Charles, you’re wrong.”

 

“You’re watching yourself from only one angle, my friend. This was what I saw. And when we were… on that day… I’m sorry; I seem to have hardship getting through it.”

 

Erik stares at his lap. Could he and that Other-Erik really be the same person? That would be…amazing…

 

Charles starts fidgeting, already afraid that he might have done something wrong. “Erik? I’m sorry if I-“

 

The rest is muffled by a kiss. Charles tenses, but only for a moment. He grabs Erik’s T-shirt and holds on so eagerly like he’s scared that the other man will just disappear. It’s long seconds later when the lips part.

 

“Stop freakin’ apologizing all the time, Charles,” Erik huffs.

 

“Not the best way to teach me that.” Charles laughs out. “I might do it more if it’s followed by-“He smiles into the next kiss…

 

***

 

The first thing Charles hears in the morning is heartbeat. He groggily conceits that it’s not a pillow under his head.

 

“Good morning.” Charles jumps. Erik is grinning down on him. “Or more like, good afternoon.”

 

“What?”

 

“You seemed to sleep so soundly that I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

 

“That-oh… I’m so-“Charles chuckles as Erik, in one quick movement, puts his palms on his cheeks, lifts his head up and lays a light kiss on his lips.”Look, this isn’t going to work if you’re doing it wro-“

 

“Shut up already.” Erik smirks after their lips parted for the second time. “There’s something I’d like to give you.”

 

Charles sits up, curious. “What is it?”

 

“Truth to be told, it was ready a few days before, but I couldn’t find the right time to give it to you.”

 

Erik lifts a quite long necklace from under his T-shirt. It has a strange grey color, definitely not silver. There’s a small, but pretty key hanging on it.

 

“About the helmet” Erik starts, embarrassed. “I didn’t know what to do with it, so I decided I would let Hank tear it apart as he pleased. To know what kind of material builds it up. And I ended up asking him to mix a little piece with metal and give it to me.” To prove his words, Erik makes the necklace float into his hand. “I would like you to have it.”

 

Charles touches the key with shaky hands. “You shaped it?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“A key.”

 

“Yes, because… you know.”

 

“Yes, I do.” Of course he does. Charles always knows.

 

“So is it okay?”

 

Charles huffs in disbelief and hurries to put the necklace on. _It’s far more than okay._

 

“Thank you.” He clutches the key with affection.

 

“See? I like that better. When you say ‘thank you’.”

 

“Then you should reward _that_ kind of behavior. That’s how psychology wor-“

 

Erik and Charles decide not to get up from bed that day…

 

 


End file.
